Thursday April 23rd 2009 is a date I will never forget. On the Wednesday evening Simon and I were supposed to be going away to Dorset for a mini-break, but as Simon had a headache we decided to go down on Thursday morning instead.

We were up bright and early, just putting the last bits and pieces in the car when the phone rang. It was my daughter Kristie, who lived with my twin sister Tina and her husband, Woody, and their family. She told me that Tina was in hospital about to have an emergency operation. She had suffered a brain haemorrhage late on Wednesday night and was due in theatre any minute to have life saving brain surgery. I felt my legs go to jelly and I could hardly speak. I had been speaking to Tina only the evening before and she had been totally fine.

I went straight to Tina’s house as her children all needed to be cared for and I wanted to be with Kristie too. Tina and Woody had been unable to have children and had adopted seven learning disabled children over the course of several years. They ranged in age from three to seventeen at the time. It was an unreal morning, trying to hold myself together for the sake of the children, but desperately waiting for the phone call from Woody, who was at the hospital, to find if she had made it through the surgery. Finally just after lunch Woody rang to say she was in intensive care but that the surgery had been successful. I was over the moon. I had been praying so hard and felt that my prayers had been answered.

Within a couple of days Tina was moved to the High Dependency Unit and was doing well. She complained of the most dreadful headache but the staff told us that was quite normal due to her brain surgery. After just a few more days Tina was moved to a general neurological ward and appeared to be making excellent progress. She was able to walk and talk quite normally and have a shower and walk around the ward. The expectation was that she would be home within the week!

Kristie and I were visiting her daily and on the Thursday, just a week after her operation, we had all been sitting chatting about the programmes she would be watching that evening when the nurse brought her tea, which included a small bowl of ice cream. Within minutes Tina’s speech was becoming confused and then I noticed that she was having problems eating her ice cream. Her hand was making odd movements and she was unable to hold the spoon. I alerted the staff on the ward and they explained that she might have some fluid on the brain and would carry out a lumbar puncture to release any fluid. When I left the hospital that evening I was obviously concerned, but the staff had been very reassuring and it seemed that this was quite normal and that the lumbar puncture was routine.

The following morning I rang the hospital and they asked me to visit urgently. They explained that Tina was once again in intensive care. I was not at all prepared for what faced me that day. The consultant explained that Tina had suffered a massive stroke due to having a vasospasm, a rare side effect of the brain surgery. In layman’s terms, the blood vessels within her brain had gone into spasm and no blood had been able to reach the frontal lobes. I was warned that they fully expected her to die. I don’t know how I managed to physically stand by her bed, I was shaking and crying so much. She was lying there covered with wires and tubes, buzzers kept going off and she was fitting, which was terrifying to watch. The machines that were keeping her alive required almost constant attention by the special nurses who were with her. I couldn’t believe that she had been doing so well and now they really thought she would die. I prayed so much that day, I asked God why this happened and kept telling Tina over and over again how much I loved her and that she would come through this ok. When I eventually left the hospital that evening I emailed every healer I could find on the internet asking if they could please send Tina healing.

I really didn’t think I’d be able to sleep that night, but nervous exhaustion thankfully sent me straight to sleep. I awoke in the morning dreading the news from the hospital. I phoned and they said she was ‘stable’, but added that there had been no improvement. I went to the hospital as soon as I could and was met by the ward sister who told me to expect the worse. She explained that only the machines were keeping her alive, and even if she did survive the prognosis was that she would be severely disabled and unable to enjoy any quality of life as her brain was so badly damaged. Yet again I sat with her, talking to her, stroking her hand gently. I prayed that she would not leave me. I had lost my Mum, my Dad and my brother all within the space of three and half months just a few years before, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing my twin sister too. I talked to her about our childhood, about the fun we used to have, about family memories, even about the battles we’d had. I just felt that I could not give up.

I was sure one day that she had lightly squeezed my hand as I was about to leave, but the nurses assured me that she wouldn’t be able to do that. They said that her brain was unable to distinguish my voice and that she most probably did not have the ability to understand anything I said to her. I ignored their advise and just carried on chatting to her right up until the moment I had to leave in the evenings. Days went by and there was no progress and it became more and more likely that she would just fade away. I was totally heartbroken. I had never lived through such a time. Being an identical twin is impossible to really understand unless you are a twin yourself. We had been together since before we were born. We had shared virtually every part of our lives, most of our childhood and teenage experiences, and even though we had fought dreadfully at times, we were always there for each other and loved one another more than can be explained. Now, days in to her stroke, I was trying to come to terms with the real possibility that this was the end. That I would not have my twin sister anymore.

They decided to carry out a further operation to install a shunt, a drain in her brain, which would release the fluid from her brain into her stomach. The operation was in itself risky, but without it she didn’t stand a chance, the fluid in her brain was building all the time. Again there was the dreadful time of waiting to see if she had pulled through and thankfully she did. We waited for a couple more days to see if there was any improvement, but still Tina just lay there motionless, on full life support, with every vein in her body seemingly linked to some needle to give her life saving fluids and drugs. They even had to start using the veins in her feet as they were running out of veins in her arms, her hands and her shoulders.

I continually asked God why this was happening and what more could I do to help her and her family through this, but I was too upset to hear any answers. Finally, in desperation, I called a medium that I found on the internet. I didn’t want to phone anyone who knew me, I really wanted someone who had no previous knowledge of who I was. Immediately she began speaking to me, she described our Dad in the most wonderful detail, and told me that he was talking about someone very close to me who had suffered a bleed on the brain. She said this person was in a critical condition and was literally between worlds. She then went on to describe our Mum, both physically and her character, and said that she was with both of us. Amazingly she also described our brother and said that he was looking over us and that he was giving me the strength to cope with it all. She told me that Tina was aware of them with her. I asked her why this was happening and she said that Tina had chosen to go through this before she was born. She explained that it was an experience Tina’s soul had wanted and importantly it would show who would support her and who wouldn’t, who would be able to understand, and who would turn away due to the severity of the situation. I did ask if Tina would survive and the medium told me that she couldn’t answer that, but said that Tina had a very strong spirit and that whatever happened was supposed to happen. I was stunned by such an accurate reading, but still had wished that I could have been told what would be the outcome.

The next day I went into the hospital again and as I walked in I said my usual ‘Hi Sis’ and took her hand. I was sure her eyelids moved and then thought I felt her gently squeeze my hand again. I didn’t mention it to the nurses, who I felt sure thought I was imagining it, but inside I felt a warm glow and a real sense of joy. Something in me realised that she had turned the corner, that she would be ok.

For the first time in weeks I felt an inner calm, an inner strength, I knew I could cope, as if I had been shown there was light at the end of the tunnel. I was full of optimism for her future. Tina’s small movements became almost like a secret code between her and I. Many times that day her eyelids moved as I said something funny and her fingers softly brushed mine. I gave her a kiss goodbye before I left and said I’d see her the next day.

The following day I was over the moon to see that Tina had her tracheostomy tube removed. She could breathe on her own! That was a huge hurdle. As usual I said ‘Hi Sis’ when I arrived and I almost fell over when a few moments later she uttered, in a very hoarse voice,’ Hi’ – she was back!!! The nurses were laughing and clapping and the whole atmosphere in the unit was lifted. She didn’t say anything again for a few days, but she still kept moving her eyelids and through her squeezing my hand I could feel her strength grow day by day.

After several more weeks Tina slowly made progress to the point where she was transferred to a neurological rehabilitation unit within the hospital. She was paralysed on her right side, still doubly incontinent, unable to even turn herself, unable to swallow food, and only able to say a few words, but she could laugh, and we would share afternoons laughing at the times we had been through together. I would sit with her and we would watch comedy shows and it would lift her spirits. It really did seem that through joy and laughter she became better and better. Through everything that had happened to her she had managed somehow to keep her sense of humour.

Over the two years Tina spent in two specialist rehabilitation hospitals, she showed incredible inner strength and courage, overcoming the most enormous obstacles. Learning to do even the most basic things from scratch which most of us take for granted. She suffered dreadful setbacks, crippling pain in her paralysed arm and leg, frustration of a damaged brain that would not function as she wished, and the agony of a broken hip from falling over when trying to use a walking stick. She had to be admitted to a normal hospital for a hip replacement operation and this caused even more problems as people didn’t understand her speech and her understanding of language, having had such a serious brain injury. Everytime they asked her if she required painkillers she said yes, even if she didn’t, and by the time she was returned to the rehab unit she was totally bombed by the amount of morphine in her body. It took weeks for her to get back to some sense of normality. She suffered incredible loneliness and depression whilst trying to come to terms with the fact that most importantly, she had lost her independence.

There were so many experiences that had me in tears over the time she was in hospital, but one of the most memorable occasions for me was when she was first able to stand, albeit with support, and we could have a hug. It was the best hug I’d ever had. We were both in tears as for the first time in many months I held her in my arms and she could hug me back too. Another wonderful memory was just before her first Christmas in hospital. The nurses organised a Carol Service and arranged for a local choir to come along and we all sat singing the carols. Many of the patients sang too, including Tina, who still has a beautiful singing voice. They gave her a microphone and she sang Once in Royal David’s City. With tears streaming down my face it took me straight back to when we were both five and were angels in our school nativity play and we had sung that very song together back then.

I was amazed by the most wonderful work the teams at the rehabilitation units undertook to get Tina as far along the recovery route as possible. Their patience and understanding was incredible. I was overwhelmed by the gentleness and kindness of other relatives visiting their loved ones who were also going through the most traumatic times and yet there was a camaraderie between us all, all supporting one another and all living for the time when those dear to us would regain even a little of their lives. The love within the rehab units was so strong. They were places of both immense sadness and unbelievable joy, much laughter and sometimes, sadly, unbearable heartache.

I was stunned by the kindness from the wonderful worldwide community of healers, many of whom stayed in contact with me throughout her two years in hospital. The strangers, literally scattered across the globe who showed an interest and continued to send their healing thoughts to Tina. I will never be able to thank them enough. I was so saddened by the lack of support from the friends and relatives that Tina had. I would never have thought that those whom she had loved and considered close backed away and found themselves too busy to even phone to find out how she was. I was appalled by the total lack of support from social services who I had assumed would be able to offer some kind of help to Woody and the children, but who in reality basically told me that as the children had been adopted and not fostered there was nothing they could do. Just as the medium had said, it was an experience which showed people’s true colours.

It was an eye-opener where friends and relatives were concerned, but it has made us both realise who really matters and who had only been there for the good times. The marriage vow, ‘for better, for worse’, often comes to my mind when I think of the people in Tina’s life who moved away from her and her family during this time, when they needed the love and support the most, and sadly received it the least. Some people even voiced that they felt it would have been better that she had just died. It is something I have tried to understand, but just can’t grasp. Maybe the lessons are for all of them, maybe they too one day may require those they hold dear to have the patience and understanding to deal with such a trauma, who knows. Some things are beyond my comprehension and maybe I will find the answers when I am once again back with my family in the spirit world.

Tina amazed all the consultants and specialists involved in her care. They said many times that her recovery was a miracle, that it should have been impossible for her to make the progress that she has. Although paralysed on her right side she is still improving. She has learnt to walk again, to eat again, has regained her speech, kept most of her memories and importantly has made new friends through her involvement in stroke clubs that she regularly attends. She has become an avid reader, has learnt to master her i-phone and laptop, how to use Spotify to listen to her favourite music, and can play a mean game of scrabble! I feel blessed that I still have my sister and that I have been able to share in such an enlightening experience.

I thank Mum, Dad and our brother Ray, for the continued love and support they have given us, without which I am sure I would have crumbled. I thank God for Tina’s ongoing recovery and for the strength I was given to cope with this. Most of all I thank Tina for being my twin, she is an inspiration.

I have recently been questioning one of my deepest held beliefs. Not that I would ever doubt spirits existence, or that we are eternal souls, no, I have no problems with that. What I have been doubting is the almost universal belief that somehow, love conquers all. It seems to me that everywhere I look, either on Facebook or within spiritual internet sites, the over-riding message is that love is all you need, love will overcome anything, love is the key to happiness. I have been struggling with this the past few years. Yes, I believe that if we all based our decisions on love, our actions on love and our thoughts on love, the world would be a better place, but unfortunately not everyone does!

Maybe it is true in the universal sense, and maybe it is also true in a soul sense, when you take many lives and average it all out, but I’m talking about this one particular physical life we are living right now. In my experience, and that of some of my closest friends, no matter how much you love someone, they can still use you, betray you and abuse you. Recently a very dear friend of mine had been blatantly used and deeply hurt by someone she considered a life-long friend, a woman she had always tried to help and support in any way she could. She can find no rhyme or reason for her friend’s behaviour and is extremely upset. I feel powerless as all I can do is listen but I can’t take away her pain. Finally, after many weeks of emotional hurt she came to the decision to end their friendship. Whilst that may well help her to avoid any further mistreatment by her friend, she is left still reeling from recent events. I wonder what lessons are being taught when someone who so obviously cares about another is mistreated by them.

My own personal experiences have been difficult to contend with at times. I used to firmly believe that if you showed someone love and compassion that they would treat you well, but often through my life I have found the absolute opposite to be true. I have puzzled over this many times and had thought that it must be a certain kind of lesson that needed learning. I have even tried to feel grateful for the role that someone must have agreed to play to assist me in walking my spiritual path.

Logically it makes sense to me that kindness should help people to overcome their difficulties. This is something I have pondered for such a long time and have asked my spiritual guides for some guidance on this but so far have not received any answers.

When you make the decision to help someone, in whichever way you feel they may benefit, whether it is just a gentle hug, a time to listen to them, or assistance in a more physical sense, why do they then turn around and be rude or malicious towards you?

It has happened in my life so many times that I can see a pattern of events. What I am hoping is that one day I will have a ‘light-bulb’ moment and suddenly the reason behind this will fall into place. My husband, Simon, tells me that he thinks I am too gentle, too soft and too forgiving. I have so often wished I could toughen up as I think my life may be so much easier, but the problem with that is that I wouldn’t be me anymore.

My brother always used to laugh at my tolerance and lack of temper. Considering the parents I had, who honestly could have won the olympics if there had been an arguing event, you’d have thought I would have a quick temper, but this isn’t true at all.

I still remember my Mum’s look of amazement when she saw me lose my temper for the very first time when I was fourteen. We had been to visit Dad in hospital where he had just undergone life saving surgery and he was on full life support, so to say we were concerned and stressed was an understatement. Mum was driving our large estate car, and I have to say she wasn’t the most confident of drivers at the best of times, but with the worry of Dad obviously on her mind, she had become distracted and taken a wrong turn. We ended up in a very narrow dead-end street with cars parked each side. At the very end there was little space to turn around. It was only just after 9pm, so not what you would call very late. Mum had to try to turn the car around which meant going backwards and forwards many many times. She was, I admit, revving the engine a little whilst trying to navigate safely and gently between the cars, but the noise wasn’t that bad. Well this chap came out of his house and started really shouting abuse at Mum. Without a thought I jumped out of the car and walked right up to him and gave him such a ticking off. I was livid that he had upset my Mum and certainly let him know it. I told him where we’d been and what was happening to my Dad. Much to my surprise the man became very apologetic and offered to help Mum with the reversing. What a turn-around!

I have always found it easier to fight other people’s battles rather than my own. My brother used to say that I was like the worm that turned, and by that he meant you could push me so far and then that was that. How right he was. I have to admit that I can take an awful lot but finally there is the straw that breaks the camels back, and funnily enough it is often a very little straw!

I have had to break ties with people I have truly loved because they have behaved so badly towards me, and it comes to a point when you realise that all the love in the world cannot change their behaviour, and so very sadly and reluctantly, there really is no choice but to walk away. Sometimes the hurt of staying in a relationship becomes so deep that your physical body cannot cope with the pain, and sometimes, and possibly even more importantly, you have to learn to value and respect yourself, which I have found the toughest lesson to learn.

I saw this too with my own Mum. She tried so very hard to have a good relationship with her Step-Mother and did everything she could to try to make it work. When we were a young family we would all travel up to London to see my Nan. We would make this journey at least once a month. Mum and Dad would have to save hard to pay for the petrol and would always be praying that the car wouldn’t break down because it was pretty old and extremely unreliable. At the time there were no such things as baby seats in cars and Mum would have to spend two hours sitting in the back of the car with my twin, Tina, and I in her arms. She laughed when she told us by the time they got there her arms couldn’t move! As Tina and I became older we both suffered from dreadful car sickness. How Mum and Dad coped with this I just don’t know, it must have been a nightmare for them. I know that Mum would always keep a couple of spare outfits for us and on many occasions as soon as we arrived at Nan’s house we would have to nip upstairs and change into fresh clothes. Thankfully our older brother Ray was not car sick, that would have been unbearable!

When Tina and I were eleven we went to stay with Nan for the week before we started at senior school. Mum and Dad took us up there and we spent a wonderful time with her. We went to see shows in London and enjoyed meeting all of her friends and generally having fun. When the week was up Mum and Dad came and collected us and strangely the mood in the car on the way home was decidedly frosty. Sadly for us, that was the last time we ever saw our Nan. A week or so after our holiday Mum made the decision to break all ties with her. I was devastated. I had adored Nan and couldn’t understand how Mum could be so cruel.

As a young child, what I hadn’t known was that my Nan could actually drive and had a very nice car. She would tell Mum of all the trips she took to see her various relatives all over the country and yet she had only ever made the journey to visit us once in the eighteen years since Mum had married. Nan was very comfortably off and would help all her relatives, and yet she never once offered any help to Mum at all. Mum told me years later that she had spent so much time broken-hearted at the way Nan treated her that finally she couldn’t take the hurt anymore. I know now it was not an easy decision for Mum to make and I know that she remained extremely upset about it for the rest of her life. She had lost her Dad when she was in her early twenties, and having been told that her natural Mother had abandoned her as a baby, she had desperately wanted to have a loving relationship with Nan.

It took me a very long time to realise that what I and others had perceived as weakness, was in fact an enormous act of strength on my Mum’s part. I can’t imagine the courage she must have mustered to be able to walk away under those circumstances, but she did, and I am sure that in the following years she certainly didn’t miss the heartache that she had endured for so much of her life. One day, when I am once again in spirit and I have my life review, I feel certain that all will become clear …… but in the meantime I must admit I really find this all so very hard to understand.

Who can say for certain
Maybe you’re still here
I feel you all around me
Your memory’s so clear

Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You’re still an inspiration
Can it be
That you are my
Forever love
And you are watching over me from up above

Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile to know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are

Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream
And isn’t faith believing
All power can’t be seen

As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me everyday
‘Cause you are my
Forever love
Watching me from up above

And I believe
That angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave

Fly me up
To where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for a while
To know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are

I know you’re there
A breath away’s not far
To where you are

I attended a weeks mediumship course at the Arthur Findlay College in Stansted several years ago with my friend Trudie. As always it had been an emotional time with most of us receiving wonderful messages from our loved ones in spirit, and most of us also giving messages to other students. Being a medium and giving such messages can be quite overwhelming at times when you know the impact that it may have on the recipient.

It had been a fantastic time where we had all moved forward leaps and bounds, both in our links with spirit and in our confidence in feeling at ease enough to stand and give demonstrations to an audience of other students, who are normally our harshest critics!

My tutor that particular week was the very wonderful Janet Parker. She is an extremely spiritual woman and whenever I have been blessed with being in her class I have always felt that she gives each and every one of her students as much support as possible. I don’t think many people appreciate the challenges that we mediums put ourselves through when we attend these courses. It is not as if you can revise to ensure that you manage to maintain a link with spirit, or that you can practise on your own, or that you can read manuals. It really is just a case of putting yourself forward to serve spirit in the best possible way you can. It is a case of learning to allow your mind to become still so that you can connect to spirit without all the day-to-day activities, planning, worries, and the general hum drum taking over your thoughts. You have to be totally trusting when you open your awareness to make contact with spirit. Sometimes you may hear spirit, or feel them, or see visions in your mind’s eye, and you have to give the information you are given without adding your own thoughts or ideas. It is quite a discipline to learn. It is not until you try to do this for hours on end that you realise how difficult it can be to overcome all the nagging thoughts that suddenly rush into your head and scream to be heard!

Being in such a spiritual environment does seem to bring out the very best in my mediumship. I am sure that spirits are drawn to the place like moths around a light bulb. There is never a shortage of loved ones who are trying to get their messages conveyed through the students and it really does make the courses so worthwhile. The tutors guide you gently towards achieving the very best mediumship you can manage and offer tips and ideas to ensure that you develop to your highest potential.

This particular week was very special as on the very first night I had received the most exact and evidential messages from both my parents through one of the tutors and then also throughout the week from several of the students. I had been going through a very tough time in my personal life and really felt the messages that I was fortunate enough to receive showed that I still had my parents around me, still loving me and supporting me and offering their advise. Each reading I had received had contained different evidence that no-one there could have possibly known. I felt incredibly blessed.

As the week came to a close I felt sad that I would be leaving. Not only would I miss the teachings and the practising of my mediumship, but I knew it was unlikely that I would be in a position to receive any further communications from my parents for quite some while. Janet, and Paul Jacobs, another tutor, had organised a closing ceremony in The Sanctuary, a beautiful church attached to the college where spiritual services are held on a regular basis. It has a fantastic uplifting atmosphere and I’ve always loved being there, you can almost feel arms wrapped around you as you walk in. They told us that we weren’t allowed to attend until 8pm as they had some preparations to complete. Trudie and I hadn’t really given the evening too much thought as most final evenings are nice, but not anything out of the ordinary.

When we walked into the Sanctuary, just after 8pm, we were greeted by the most wonderful vision of beautiful materials and oriental rugs laid on the floor running down the centre of the church. Incense sticks were burning and candles flickered in the darkness. Hundreds of small unlit tealight candles had been placed on the materials and chairs were placed either side running the length of the Sanctuary. There was a hush of anticipation as we students all filed in quietly, taking our seats whilst gentle music was playing.

Trudie and I sat next to each other about midway down the room. Janet and Paul both gave a talk about the week we had just experienced and thanked spirit for their participation in our teachings. Janet then instructed the students sitting at the end of the rows to light a candle for each loved one they had in spirit, then the lighter was to be passed to the next student, then the next etc. By the time it came to Trudie and I most of the candles were already lit and the Sanctuary looked absolutely amazing. I lit candles for my Mum, for my Dad, for my brother, for my friend Janet, and not wishing to look greedy, lit another jointly for all my aunts. uncles and grandparents in spirit. Trudie too lit candles for those she had loved and lost, including her cousin Robert whom she missed so much.

When all the candles were lit Janet asked us to close our eyes. She asked us to give thanks to our guides and loved ones for helping us through the week and for allowing us to experience the love from spirit that we had all shared. Whilst our eyes were closed, and we were sitting in the candle light, Janet put on the music, To Where You Are, performed by Josh Groban. I had never heard this before and was lost in the beautiful words that meant so much to me. I couldn’t help but start crying, both because of the joy of knowing my loved ones were so close and also because of the pain and loss at realising that I can’t always reach out and touch them, speak to them, or hold them as I once did. I felt around in my pocket for a tissue and all I had was an old crumpled one. I thought it would have to do, and then I realised Trudie was crying too, she whispered to me “Do you have a tissue?”, I only had the one, so I tore it in half, and there we were, the two of us, holding hands and using half a tissue each to mop our tears.

Whenever I listen to this beautiful song, as I often do, I am taken straight back to the Sanctuary, to the love and connection I felt with spirit, to the knowledge that I know how very fortunate I am to have my loved ones in spirit still so close to me …. and then, when the emotion becomes almost just too much to bear …. to the old crumpled tissue that my friend Trudie and I shared!

My Dad was a research scientific glassblower. He had trained after he returned from serving in the war and after many years as an apprentice went to work for an oil company in their refinery.

As a young girl I was mesmerised when I would spend hours with Dad in the garden shed as he made all different objects in glass. He would normally be making atomisers by the dozen, something he did to help pay for the very old car he and Mum had managed to buy. It was always going wrong and to pay all the garage bills Dad would take on extra work in the evenings and on weekends.

In his shed he had shelves filled with glass of all different colours and would make small ornaments for us. He’d ask us what we’d want and we’d excitedly shout out cat or dog or horse and within minutes the glass would be transformed into funny little characters. Even with his large hands Dad would craft the most beautiful intricate glass furniture for our dolls house and tiny glass coat hangers for our dolls clothes. It was always like magic to me, watching him heat the glass in the flame and then with various tools he would pull it into different shapes, sometimes blowing into it at the same time. It was wonderful and I loved our time together in the shed and the strange smell that only a glass blowing room has. For fun, Dad would blow very fine glass bubbles, they would waft up into the air and were so fragile that you could put your fingers through them and they would virtually disappear. Dad made beautiful gifts for friends and relatives and everyone would be in awe that he had made them in the shed. If he had not had the responsibility of a family and the need for a regular income I am sure he would have preferred to spend his time creatively rather than working with all the technical glass blowing at the refinery.

When I attended a spiritualist church in London many years later, there was a young man, Martin, giving his very first inspired talk. You could tell he was extremely nervous and I had even seen him pacing up and down in the hallway before he had to take his place on the platform. He needn’t have worried at all as his talk was very good. You could tell that the congregation was hanging on his every word and you could have heard a pin drop.

I noticed his aura expanding whilst he spoke and could see a vague outline of what appeared to be someone standing to the right side of him. I turned around and looked behind me to see if it could be a shadow or a play of the light, but everyone was sitting down and there were no obvious light sources. The medium on the platform was sitting to the left of Martin so I couldn’t see where this could be coming from. As he continued speaking I noticed an odd movement to the right hand side of him. There was a white-painted handrail with railings beneath which ran along the length of the platform and Martin was standing behind them and occasionally leaning on them. To my absolute amazement I could see the outline of someone leaning on the rail far to the right, and the more I looked the more form the shape took. Eventually I could see it was a man, a little taller than Martin, and surprisingly, he looked as if he was made of the glass bubbles that my Dad used to make. He was shiny and transparent! It seemed an age that he was there, leaning on the handrail looking at everyone. I kept blinking to clear my vision because I just couldn’t really believe what I was seeing. When Martin sat down the man was no longer visible and the service went on as normal. However, when Martin stood again to say the closing prayer I could clearly see the man again. It was an experience that I know I will never forget. I spoke to Martin afterwards and asked him if he was aware of anyone standing near him but he said he wasn’t. I did very much feel that this may have been a spirit who was there to assist him.

As time went on, and as I saw various mediums working, I began to see more and more outlines on walls behind them which would gradually form into ‘glass’ people. Often it would be quite vague but sometimes I could make out distinct features, even clothes that were being worn and very often the medium would then give that as a description of the spirit communicator.

When I had been away from my mediumship for several years it appeared that this ‘gift’ of seeing spirit on walls or ‘glass’ people had all but disappeared. I was chatting to some friends last summer and saying what a great shame that was. Then, much to my surprise, when I attended a local spiritual workshop I was sitting watching another medium demonstrate when I began to see the familiar outline slowly appearing on the wall behind her. I was thrilled! As we worked that day the visions became clearer until I could actually use the vision as the basis for one of my readings when I was called to stand up and demonstrate. I saw a ‘glass’ man leaning on a very old country gate and could see the countryside around him. Strangely I was also shown the most massive womans breast, which took up most of the wall, and I knew that he was connected to someone who had breast cancer. I was fortunate enough to be told his name, which is something I always ask for but don’t always get. I described him and the connection to the breast cancer and gave his name and immediately a woman could accept him and my communication with him strengthened. I was so grateful that I was able to give the recipient a good message from her loved one.

I often think of the ‘glass’ people I have seen and having spoken to several other mediums it does seem quite rare and I do wonder if watching my Dad making his glass bubbles all those years ago somehow stirred that gift in me. Thanks Dad!

I owe God an apology. Well in fact it’s an apology both to God and Jesus. It’s an apology from myself and also on behalf of my twin sister Tina, as we were in cahoots at the time, so I hope they will accept this from both of us.

When we were about eleven years old, Mum was, spiritually speaking, trying to finding her way. From my earliest memories I remember Mum trying various religions. Some she would really get involved in and others she would dismiss very quickly. She was a natural medium, but even with the knowledge that spirit is energy and so, ever-lasting, she was still searching for the meaning of life and felt that ‘somewhere’, ‘ out there’ she would find it.

She was working as a secretary for an airline in Hounslow, Middlesex, close to Heathrow Airport, and it was there that she met another secretary, Jean. Jean was a staunch member of the Plymouth Brethren Church. Unfortunately for us, Mum thought that this religion might be the one that we should all take on board. All, meaning Mum and Tina and myself, as Dad would never step foot inside a church and by that time our older brother,Ray, was more into becoming a hippy and playing his guitar than wanting to find himself embroiled in some religious activities.

Jean belonged to a small Plymouth Brethren church that Tina and I attended with Mum on a few occasions. The whole place was very understated and to me felt totally flat. There was no atmosphere at all, no feeling of joyous celebrations of life, just really boring sermons, uncomfortable chairs and self-righteous middle-aged ladies, faces scrubbed clean and dressed in drab neat boring clothes. They had such strict rules which basically meant that if you were to become one of them you wouldn’t be able to have much fun at all. I couldn’t help but wonder why Mum was at all interested in this very odd religion, but I think that the stranger it appeared, the more Mum thought there must be something to it. I am also sure that Jean felt that she could somehow change Mum, give her ‘real’ values and that she would throw away her makeup bag, her fashionable clothes, and become just like Jean – a mouse of a woman who spent her life adhering to the strictest of religious rules. Jean must have been very persuasive to get Mum to even consider joining.

Jean asked Mum if Tina and I would like to go on a Plymouth Brethren holiday and she had said yes. Mum told us that it would be really good fun and that she felt we hadn’t given the church much of a chance. Reluctantly we agreed to go, after all, we thought, it might be ok because it meant that we would be away on holiday just the two of us for the very first time. We really thought that it couldn’t possibly be that bad!

We had never been camping before and this was a holiday in big tents, so we really were quite excited as we packed our tee shirts and shorts and swimming costumes. I remember feeling so grown up as I carried my own suitcase onto the coach. The holiday was at a campsite at Brean Sands in Somerset, right beside the sea. To me as a child, a seaside holiday meant making sand castles, sunbathing, sticks of rock, chips and fizzy drinks, , swimming in the sea, playing in penny arcades and donkey rides. I imagined us all sitting round a camp fire at night singing jolly songs.

When we arrived we were all shown to our tents with our allotted sleeping bags already laid out on the ground. It didn’t look at all comfortable! There was a large wooden cabin were we all had to meet up for meals and for ‘meetings’. The lady in charge was called ‘Captain’, I would think she was in her mid fifties and wore a rigid black suit with a high neck buttoned white blouse, not your usual holiday clothes at all. She looked like a sergeant major to me and I had an uneasy feeling about her from the off. It was obvious she already knew lots of the other children and her tight-lipped stern expression only softened into a smile when she was addressing those she knew. The rest of us were greeted with a scowl and a look of disdain. Not the best welcome to a week-long holiday.

After sorting out our clothes we had to go the cabin for our tea. Captain sat at the top table and before we’d even eaten a sandwich she was standing up calling from a register and issuing your orders for the week. When she came to Tina and I she told us that we were on latrine duty. I had no idea what a latrine was but soon found out. Basically we were going to be toilet attendants for the week. Somehow that did not thrill us.

After tea we were told that the Bible verse for the week was John 10, verse 10. ‘The thief cometh not, but that he may steal, and kill, and destroy: I came that they may have life, and may have it abundantly’. Captain explained that what that meant was that we were all sinners and unless we behaved ourselves and repented that we would not go to heaven. I was really worried, because I knew that I wasn’t always good and had sometimes been naughty. I was convinced that there was no way I was ever going to be able to get into heaven. That first night when I went to sleep, in my sleeping bag on the lumpy ground, I was trying so hard not to cry because I really thought I was going to be in such trouble with God.

The following morning after breakfast (and prayers …. lots of prayers) Tina and I had to carry out our latrine duties for the first time. The loos were dreadful. Everything smelt of jeyes fluid and the brushes for cleaning the toilet bowls had seen better days. It was not a pleasant task. I can’t begin to explain the state of some of the seats …. I still don’t know how they ever got like that. We had though been told that we would off on a bus to go to the beach for the rest of the day, so that was something we could really look forward to.

We all went and waited at the bus stop with our swimming costumes and towels full of happy thoughts for the day ahead. The bus arrived, complete with some local passengers and on we all got. Much to our absolute horror, Captain got everyone singing hymns. “S-A-V-I-O-U-R- we want you all to know, you’re the one, the only one who saves from sin (saves from sin), if in him, you will believe, his pardon you’ll receive”, etc etc. I felt a total fool with everyone staring at us. I had no option but to get used to it, because it happened everyday for the whole week. I just kept thinking that no-one would know Tina and I and at least we weren’t singing hymns on a bus where we lived.

Even on the beach the theme of the week continued. We were dispatched to sandcastle making teams. It was all very formal and efficient. Each team was given a passage from the bible that you had to make into a sand sculpture. My team had the verse ‘For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leadeth unto life, and few be they that find it.’ Captain explained that in order to get into heaven we had to walk along the narrow path , but that most of us walked a wider path. There was that threat again. Behave … or else! There was no swimming, no boat rides, no ice creams. No fun at all.

To me, even at that young age, I felt that their whole philosophy was one of fear. So it went on through the whole week. I really wasn’t sleeping very well and both Tina and I cried ourselves to sleep every night because our worries were growing by the day. I made the massive mistake of asking Captain if we would be able to go to the pier and the fun fair. My goodness, she was not happy with me at all. I was told that I was sinful to want to go against the teachings of the bible. Then to top it off Tina and I were severely reprimanded by Captain, in front of everyone, because we were found walking across a field towards a donkey derby, which we were told, was strictly against God. That’s it, I thought, I’ve totally had it now. I was convinced that I was going to hell.

It was becoming an increasingly miserable time apart from every night, after the sermon, when other children were standing up telling how they had found Jesus or God. Everyone would be clapping and they would then become an accepted member of the group. It was obvious to us that there were very few left who hadn’t found Jesus, and we were definitely among those few! It also appeared that those people who had just found God or Jesus were given the better jobs within the camp. People who had been on rubbish patrol would be moved to cutlery placing, those on washing up were put on bread and butter service. It seemed that was the only way to get ahead. Tina and I reckoned that as we were already in so much trouble and we were going to go to hell anyway, we would hatch a plan to get out of latrine duties!

The following evening, after we had cleaned the loos before supper, we had our course of action in place. After we had eaten and said more prayers, and Captain had given us all yet another lengthy sermon on behaving, we stood up in unison. We told her we had found Jesus behind the cabin. She did look a little stunned, but managed a very small smile and everyone started clapping wildly. “The twins have found Jesus”, “the twins have found Jesus” they exclaimed excitedly! People gathered round us and hugged us. Suddenly we were no longer the outsiders, we were part of the group.

The next morning after breakfast we were given new instructions for the rest of the week . No longer did we have to clean the loos, we were told we would be in charge of handing out breakfast cereals and porridge. We had certainly been promoted. Our plan had worked! Then, the dreaded guilt set in. The realisation of the lies we had told and the total certainty of an everlasting life in hell really took its toll on both of us. We couldn’t wait to get home to talk to Mum and Dad. We were praying they could somehow fix everything with Jesus and God.

Thankfully the time to go home eventually arrived. Even now, forty-five years later, I remember how long that week felt. Mum and Dad met us at the coach station and had expected to be meeting two very happy sun tanned girls. Instead we got off the coach and just fell into their arms crying. Through sobs we told them that we were going to hell. We really were distraught. They asked us to explain what had happened and after we had, they told us there was no way in the world we would be going to hell. Dad really was quite cross that anyone could put such fear into children but was laughing uncontrollably when we told him about us finding Jesus behind the cabin. Mum explained that God is love and that there is no way in the world that God would want anyone to be frightened of him. Quite seriously it took months for Tina and I to get over the fears that had been instilled in us that week. Mum, thankfully, decided not to go to the church with Jean ever again and was very pleased when Jean moved offices!

Now, as an older woman, with many years of life’s experiences under my belt, I feel that the higher spirit, the creator of our universe, is as Mum said, pure love. Of that I have absolutely no doubt. I tend to follow my own spiritual pathway and rarely become involved in anything termed as ‘religion’, although I pray every night, and happily pray with friends.

I believe with all my heart that we all share a creator, no matter the title that anyone or any group may give to this divine spirit, and that this creator would never want to threaten or frighten, but instead would wish to instill love and compassion and empathy in all those who live.

I do still wonder whether the other children on that holiday were as frightened as we were. A whole week of being indoctrinated is pretty hard for an adult, never mind a young child. Thank goodness Tina and I had each other and parents who showed us, through example and guidance, what a wonder our creator truly is. I do though still wish to apologise for telling the lie about finding Jesus behind the cabin. Quite possibly (hopefully) God and Jesus had a good laugh about it. I am hoping they have a good sense of humour!

Goose bumps provoked by a fresh breeze. Photo taken in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I was a very young girl I was always aware of energies around me because, when they were about, I experienced head to toe goosebumps. I would happily be walking down the stairs and then suddenly …. whoosh … there they were … and I would be terrified!

From when I was 9 years old we lived in a typical 1930’s semi-detached three bedroom house in Twickenham, outer London. When Mum and Dad first bought the house it was very dowdy and when we arrived I thought it was really spooky. Full of dark colours and with drab curtains hanging at the windows, I wasn’t at all impressed. I’d have given anything to go back to the modern houses we had lived in when we were living in Essex before Dad had been transferred from Shell Haven, near Southend, to the Shell laboratories in Egham, Surrey. Mum though was thrilled to be living back near London and her relatives, and Dad was really happy as his transfer was also a step up the career ladder.

My twin sister, Tina, and I had to share the back bedroom which was decorated with wallpaper that was supposed to be ‘stone-wall effect’. Why anyone would ever want that in a bedroom I had no idea. It was horrid! Mum and Dad had the large double room overlooking the green at the front of the house, my brother Ray had a small single room and we all shared a pretty awful stark and very chilly bathroom. Downstairs was a sitting room with a dark wood panelled dining room at one end and a fairly small kitchen with a walk-in larder. There was no separate loo and no central heating. In the kitchen was a very old coal-fired boiler which I gathered heated the hot water and the only other heating in the house was a coal fire in the sitting room that seemed to emit more smoke than warmth. The back garden faced north-east so it was never bright and sunny. All in all I wondered, even at that young age, why on earth Mum and Dad had bought this awful dreary house.

Within a short time of moving in Mum, Tina and I were very busy decorating. Yes, you did read that correctly! My Dad, bless, was no decorator, and unless you wanted your wallpaper hung upside down or with the pattern mis-matched, and drips of gloss running down the doors, you didn’t ask him to help. Ray was far more interested in being out and about with his friends, so it was up to us girls to get stuck in. Mum was a dab-hand at everything d.i.y. and from when Tina and I could just about walk she had taught us all she knew. She had so much patience and would spend hours teaching us how to prepare surfaces for painting, how to hold a paintbrush and put just enough gloss paint on so that it covered but did not run. There she was with her beautifully manicured nails and her exquisitely styled hair, full make up and happy as a sandboy, she’d be up and down ladders, painting, wallpapering and even stripping and painting furniture. Mum was fantastic with colours and her interior design flair soon brightened every inch of the house. All the dark wallpapers had gone replaced by bright light modern colours. It was a total transformation and the neighbours kept popping round to ask Mum’s advise. She missed her calling there I think, she should have set up in business and she’d have done so well.

From the moment we moved in I felt that there was a lot going on spiritually speaking. Both Tina and I were becoming more and more aware of energies in our bedroom at night. I would get myself under the covers and not dare to peek out because I just knew ‘someone’ was in the room and would be covered in goosebumps, no matter the actual temperature. Stupidly I had thought that now the house was brighter I would feel more at ease. I suppose thinking about it now, why would the colour of the wallpaper or the curtains make one jot of difference to a spirit!

What didn’t help either was that Dad would often go upstairs and sit on his own in the bedroom he and Mum shared. If you walked past the door you could hear him having a one-sided conversation (not that Tina and I would ever stand there and listen intentionally!). It was all very odd and if we asked who he was talking to he would make some excuse not to answer. It was only many years later that he told us that he would be talking to his twin sister Mary, who had died when he was five, and he also had regular chats with his Father-in-law, Ray (Mum’s Dad), who had passed to spirit before Tina and I were even born. Mum was exploring her religious beliefs and spirituality and among other religions that she dabbled with, was off to spiritual meetings and circles whilst we lived there, so no wonder the house was busy with spirit energies!

I remember one particular Saturday afternoon. Dad was sitting watching sport on the tv and I was going to go upstairs to collect a book to read. As I went to go up the stairs I was suddenly covered in goosebumps and I froze, I called to Dad and explained that I had gone all whooshy. To try to put me at my ease he explained that if there was anything on the stairs, our dog, Belle (a beautiful Saluki) would know about it. He went and brought her out from the sitting room. She too froze at the bottom of the stairs and with her heckels up began to growl. Dad said she had picked up on my fear and put her back in the sitting room and went and got Perky, our cat, who was curled up by the boiler, and put her on the bottom of the stairs too. There was no way she was going to go upstairs either! She quickly ran back into the kitchen. Dad walked up the stairs with me and as we almost got to the turn near the top the hairs on every inch of my body were standing on end and I was what I now term ‘mega-whooshy’. As soon as we reached the landing the feeling began to subside.

The bathroom was very busy, spiritually speaking, I often felt ‘someone’ was in there, even in the bath I would be going whooshy! Looking back I suppose I should have asked who it was, but at such a young age I never thought to do that. All of the family saw someone walk into the bathroom on many occasions and we also used to see the towels lifted off the towel rail, which became quite a common occurrence! I soon learnt that the best way to deal with all the odd feelings I had was to imagine a transparent bubble surrounding me that nothing could penetrate. No-one ever told me to do this, it was purely instinctive, and throughout my whole life it is something I have often done without even really thinking about it. I always feel amazingly safe in my bubble of protection.

Over the years in Twickenham the whole family saw and felt spirit energies both in the house and just outside in the garden. Sometimes just one of us would experience something but often it would two or more of us at the same time. We would all be sitting eating our lunch in the dining room and often see someone walk past the french doors, which was impossible as it went nowhere. To begin with Dad would go outside to see who it was, but after several sightings we all just took it as ‘normal’ and would acknowledge whoever it was and carry on with our meal. I always knew someone was about because I would experience my whooshy feeling even before anyone else said anything. I didn’t mind too much when we were all together, but I didn’t like it at all when I was in the house on my own, which I would try to avoid as much as possible.

Since that time I have learnt that when I feel the whoosh it is my very own spiritual radar working. It has never been wrong. It works in many different ways now. I suppose as I’ve grown older, it has been fine-tuned. If I am giving a demonstration of spirit and am not sure who the recipient is, it has come in very handy. For example, say I have an elderly gentleman trying to connect with someone, as I start giving evidence I am never sure who it is for. If someone tries to accept the message and I don’t experience the ‘whoosh’ I know the message is not for them, but the moment the right recipient acknowledges the spirit, from my feet up I feel the ‘whoosh’ rushing right up through my body, and I know it is right. It’s also very useful when I have been sitting in church, or in a circle, and someone tries to place a spirit reading with me. They may say ‘I have your Dad with me’ and if I feel nothing I know they haven’t, but if I feel the whoosh I know they have.

As most of my friends are mediums or healers, we do have some, shall I say, rather strange conversations at times. We chat about our experiences with spirit and some of them are really quite incredible, and some are almost unbelievable. Many people, I am sure, had they been eavesdropping, would think ‘what a load of rubbish’, and I must admit on occasions I have found some things hard to swallow. Even as I am sometimes recounting some of the wonderful and weird occurrences that I have been witness to, or been involved with, I am sure others must just have at least the slightest inkling that I am exaggerating! I have sat listening to the most amazing stories and have been covered in goosebumps and just know that what I am being told is true. I feel I am so fortunate to have my own lie-detector on board and what is even better is that I can show people too! It doesn’t matter, even if I’m sitting in warm sunshine, if I get the whoosh, I am covered in goosebumps. It is a wonderful way of proving that I am receiving a ‘signal’. At other times friends will ask my advise, and if they give me alternative solutions to their problems I will feel the whoosh when they mention the correct course of action for them to take. The whoosh then becomes like spiritual shorthand. As I said, it has been fine-tuned, and I can’t imagine my life without it now.

I was sitting chatting to two friends, Niki and Sharon, last week and we were discussing how, after we had passed into spirit ourselves, we would be able to give the kind of evidence to a medium so that our friends and loved ones would absolutely know it was us. For Sharon we said that she could say she had an affinity with wolves, had a phoenix tattoo and enjoyed karaoke. That would certainly be Sharon! For Niki, we all agreed on the description of big hair (Niki naturally has lots and lots of very curly hair) and her favourite saying which is ‘I don’t know’. I think we would know that was Niki without too much of a problem. For me, I had to laugh, Sharon said there was just one word that would guarantee it was me. The word? Whooshy!!

How many times in your life have you felt utterly alone? Felt there was no-one who was there was for you? Felt that no-one could understand what you were going through?

Sometimes the very fact that you put a brave face on it, no matter the tough times you are going through, can actually back-fire because everyone thinks that everything in your life is fine. Or, maybe people think that you are one of those lucky few who can cope admirably with anything that is thrown at them. Could it be that maybe your pride is getting in the way of being honest and you prefer people to think that you are ‘strong’ ?

How difficult it can be to be able to reach out when you desperately need a friend.

After I left Devon and moved to Hampshire with my twin sister, Tina, and her family, I was in a very odd ‘friend free’ zone for the first time in my life. After 26 years I had finally plucked up the courage to end my marriage and within a matter of weeks many of my friends were doing exactly the same! It was as if a cosmic switch had come on somewhere and we all decided that enough was enough. My friends are scattered throughout England, and very strangely, all were going through their own very similar difficult and often traumatic times. After they had separated from their husbands they had all stayed in the same towns, so at least they had their local friends around them for support, but due to my ex’s threatening behaviour I decided it was better (and I felt safer) moving far away.

Friends that I had been in regular contact with for years were busy dealing with their own problems and I felt that I couldn’t bother them with my own worries at that time. Tina and her husband, Woody, had adopted six learning disabled children, whose ages ranged from two to fifteen, so they too were pretty busy, sorting out the often complicated special educational and medical needs that the children required in a new area. It was extremely rare for me to get more than a minute or so alone with Tina for a chat, there was always someone who needed her.

Tina and Woody had rented a very large old house so that the children could each have their own bedrooms and fortuitously it had a two bedroom annexe that was perfect for me. Although it was not as grand as the main house, it too had large rooms, all decorated in a very gaudy colours by the previous tenant. The carpets alone were enough to give you a headache. The main lounge was fluorescent yellow, the second bedroom, vibrant lime green and my bedroom was bubble gum pink!

Although I had not one jot of regret for the decision I had made, and knew I was fortunate to have a roof over my head, I suddenly found myself in an alien environment. My ex-home was hundreds of miles away, I had none of my treasured possessions around me, none of the comforts of my previous life. I didn’t have one stick of furniture so went to the local D.I.Y. store and bought the last two fold up garden chairs they had as it was the end of the summer season. They were vibrant yellow and green so almost ‘matched’ the carpet in the lounge and as a bonus they came with cushions, which looked far more comfortable than they really were as I soon found out when I sat on one when I got home. I had never sat on such lumpy cushions. I also bought a table lamp and a small table, so that I could have somewhere to put my coffee, and a small radio so that I could at least have some music to keep me company. I had virtually no money, no income and most of my clothes were still at my old house, so not much at all. My sister had loaned me a single bed and bedding which looked lost in the massive bedroom.

I remember one evening sitting on one of my lumpy cushioned chairs looking out over the garden which was a tangled mess of laurels and holly trees at the time. I remember feeling so terribly lost. I knew that all the legalities involved in both the divorce and the selling and splitting of assets from my marriage were obviously not going to happen overnight. I felt I was in limbo and as if I didn’t belong anywhere, like I had no roots. I don’t think I’d realised how much I had relied on the roots of my life, the roots that come with familiarity of where you live, the friends you see, who you are with, what you are doing everyday.

It is often at times like these when we have to learn to become super resilient, super self-reliant, it is almost as if the universe conspires to put us in a place where we have no option but to dig deep, to delve into our soul’s reserves and find the strength from within ourselves to overcome our fears and concerns.

The realisation of my uncertain future really hit me that night. I concluded that I could look at my life in two opposing ways. I could think how dreadful it was, sitting alone in this cold quiet emptiness that was devoid of anything that meant anything at all to me, or try to look at my new circumstances as a blank canvas, ready for the new adventures of my life to be captured in bright cheerful warm colours.

I was so fortunate in that I felt that I could call on spirit, my guides, my helpers, my loved ones who had passed, and asked them if they could come close. I had a need to know that I did at least, still have my spiritual roots to build on.

As I was sitting there, deep in thought, thinking of my spirit friends, the sun was setting and the most beautiful deep pink and golden rays of the sunset came streaming through my window. I felt my spirits lift, and my immediate thought was that old saying, ‘red sky at night, shepherds delight’ and felt a smile from within.

I shook myself out of my melancholy moment and put on the radio. Of all the songs that could have been playing I heard James Taylor singing one of my favourites. I had no doubt that spirit had played a part in my putting the radio on at that exact time, the choice of the music, and the station I was tuned to. I felt my heart fill with love and comfort as I knew I had received a spiritual hug. Whenever I feel alone now, when I start to miss those that I loved so dearly, I think of that magic moment and the enormous effort that I am sure my family and friends spirit-side put into getting that message to me so clearly. I know that all I have to do is close my eyes, think of them, and they will be here, right beside me.

Written and performed by Carole King, but actually made famous by James Taylor, “You’ve got a friend”.

You’ve Got a Friend

When you’re down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, ooh, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I’ll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I’ll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
You’ve got a friend.

If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name,
and you know where ever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you go to do is call
and I’ll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hey, ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They’ll hurt you and desert you.
Well they’ll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don’t you let them.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don’t you know that,
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
Hey now, all you’ve got to do is call.
Lord, I’ll be there, yes I will.
You’ve got a friend.
You’ve got a friend.
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend.
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend.
You’ve got a friend